


Night Owl

by thequeernessofsupers (CharlemagneGryffis)



Series: It's Only a Weeks Worth of Cat and Kara Craziness [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Batfamily Feels, F/F, Supercat Week, batfam, batkids
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-03
Updated: 2016-08-03
Packaged: 2018-07-29 02:36:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7667017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CharlemagneGryffis/pseuds/thequeernessofsupers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Supercat Week, Day One: Canon Divergence AU - or, the one where Kara was raised by Bruce Wayne as part of the Batfam.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Night Owl

 

When Kara Zor-El lands on Planet Earth, Kal-El, or Clark Kent as he was more commonly known, was nineteen years old and in Metropolis University trying not to be bored by end-of-semester paper in front of him. In another universe, that doesn’t happen (or it does, just not at that point) and he does greet her and tell her that it’s been twenty-four years since his original landing. But that’s in another universe, and in that universe, Kara Zor-El had landed in two thousand and six – not two thousand, little under six years before.

Instead, Kara Zor-El lands on Planet Earth – more specifically, a beach beneath a tall, rocky cliff-face, at low-tide – and stays there, still asleep, for four more days, her pod having been damaged during her long, long flight, getting rushed in and out of water periodically, until she becomes dislodged enough to drift, the currents pushing her further out into the salty sea.

And then Bruce Wayne, on his speedboat with a troupe of Russian ballet dancers, sees a glint of silver in the water of Great Bay.

* * *

At twenty-seven, Bruce Wayne isn’t Batman. Yet. He won’t become Batman for a few more years, and when he does, it’ll be out of convenience rather than necessity. Kara’s retrieval from the bottom of Great Bay, New Jersey – at first loud, as a cocky Bruce goes diving into the water to impress the ladies, then quiet and serious as he realises _there is a child down here_ , and he comes back up to the surface and grabs the sat phone, calling Alfred and ordering him, on the down-low, to get another boat out to his coordinates. Then he turns to the ballet dancers and tells them – in perfect Russian – that they’ll be returning to shore, unable to bring a smirk to his face as he worries about how much air the girl has left, if she’s even _alive_.

Of course, she’s alive, and over a dozen people, not including Bruce, witness her pod open, smoother than the water that had streamed off it, and see the girl’s awakening, all wide eyes and confusion. Even Bruce, with his multilingual upbringing – knows so many languages, simply, _for the business, Brucey_ – cannot understand what the girl is speaking. Not until she turns around in her pod, rummaging for something sleek and silver and curved that she stares fretfully at before she unplugs it and – to Bruce’s fascination – starts fiddling with the insides that are baffling to the eye, that he cannot, for the life of him understand. She fiddles, and they watch in silence as her shoulders drop in relief, before she snaps the silver case of it back shut.

Then she holds it up to the sky, brings to her forehead, closes her eyes as it bathes her in blue light that only occasionally flickers…and then she speaks.

In English.

“ _My name is Kara Zor-El, of the House of El, of…of the planet K-Krypton. Is this Earth, and have you seen another pod nearby?_ ”

A strange conversation later, about alien life and damaged-to-the-point-of-exploding planets, Bruce takes her home, the other sailors each a few hundred thousand dollars richer. Kara is from the planet Krypton, and her Bruce gets to watch her stare at the world around them, brushing the green material like she’d never seen the colour before.

She hadn’t.

When they reach his mansion, Bruce contacts someone he’d hesitate to call friend, in the depths of Gotham City – but by morning, ‘Kara Elise Wayne’ is his daughter from a French hotel maid from Paris that both didn’t exist and was already part of the scams Bruce’s ‘friend’ partook in. Kara thanked him for the identity when he told her, though explained she wasn’t ten, _I am twelve…thirteen?_ , thank-you very much. And he in turn told her that he’d asked her how long both a Kryptonian day and year were each, and that he’d calculated everything out, and by Earth terms, she was actually nine – he just had to bump it up to match a trip he took to Europe when he was seventeen.

* * *

Kara’s pod was more helpful than Kara herself originally thought, after Bruce asked her to show him how it worked. She made him agree not to use any of the technology inside to improve his planet, seeing as _you’re a few thousand years behind Krypton, it wouldn’t be…good_ , but did show him how to work it. The flight controls were easy to understand, even with his ability to fly a plane, but the logs…that was where it got interesting. The question, “ _What’s the Phantom Zone?”_ turned into a full-blown debate that, by the end, had Kara crying in his arms. Bruce tried to be helpful, hugging and soothing, promising to help her understand and teach her all about Earth, and…somehow succeeded? She calmed down, at least.

Maybe he would turn out to be good at this ‘dad’ thing.

* * *

…that was when he realised maybe giving her his name and proclaiming her his daughter might have both been genius and a sort-of mistake. So he introduced her to Alfred, and had a sort-of-but-not-really panic-attack.

Then, he decided he would be her dad until further notice.

* * *

Things sped up after that.

The Press got a little limpet-like after Kara was introduced, but the girl held her own – apparently the House of El was a _little_ more than just a House of Krypton and more like…Very Important. And because of it Kara wasn’t a stranger to paparazzi. The Press in Gotham was tame in comparison, according to the young Kryptonian.

If anyone asked, Kara was home-schooled, and…it was true. She did schoolwork in bulk over a few days every month, in wait for the random slash monthly-and-exactly-twenty-eight-days-apart inspection, and the rest of the time, Bruce – and Alfred – would teach her about human culture, _American_ culture. It was around that time too that Bruce started to see Gotham for what it was, Kara helping him by neatly pointing out that crime was crime, that it was bad and _why are you being so hypocritical? You say that it’s terrible and Gotham has lived like this for so long – your parents died of it – but you do nothing to stop it, you- you **went** to a criminal for my new identity. Why do you endorse crime, Bruce?_

* * *

Batman was born in salt and rotting wood, guilt, and a fall into a forgotten cave.

* * *

The next year, after tales of Gotham’s protector and the decreasing amount of crime in the infamous No-Man’s Land of a city, Lois Lane started writing articles about ‘Superman’, and a ten year old Kara Wayne would stare at the crest of the House of El emblazoned on his chest, wondering if her theory that Kal-El was out there, somewhere, only a child, a baby, was true at all.

* * *

Two thousand and five. Kara’s fifteenth birthday came around at the end of the year. Bruce let her dress in a black jumpsuit emblazoned with the Bat Symbol that Kara so dearly wanted to replace with the crest of the House of El, a defence against Kryptonite hidden underneath the plated red.

“ _Why can’t I wear it, dad? Please, it’s **mine**.”_

Bruce had shaken his head, looking at her solemnly.

“ _When you fight by my side, you fight a Bat – I just want to keep you safe, Kara._ ”

Kara had cried, and complained, but Bruce and Alfred talked her down, and even managed to get her to agree to a set of rules. Rule one: she didn’t use her heat-vision. Rule two: she didn’t use her freeze breath. Rule three: if she was going to fly, she had to turn on blue lights on her boots.

After all, repulsors were plausible technology.

Her alien-ness?

Not so much, even considering the one in Metropolis.

* * *

“What kind of name is _Batgirl?_ Couldn’t I be _Batwoman?_ I’m not a little girl! Dad, make them change my supername!”

* * *

A year after Kara’s advent as Batgirl, the Wayne’s took a trip to the circus. A month later, after a high-wire snap, a murder mystery, and the induction of Dick Grayson into both Wayne Manor and the Batfam, as Kara so ineloquently called them, _The Gotham Globe_ released an article, with an amazing, perfect, lucky snap from a young photographer by the name of Jimmy Olsen – who would go on to become _The Daily Planet’_ s best asset other than Lois Lane herself – of the ‘Batfam’ on a rooftop.

Batman stood in the centre, crouched down, with the newly titled ‘Robin’ to his left.

And to his right, Batgirl hovered in the air, cape fluttering in the breeze, reminiscent of Superman himself.

She stared straight at the camera.

* * *

After the photo is released, Clark Kent visits _The Gotham Globe_ and seeks out Jimmy Olsen. The freelance photographer is luckily in the building at the time, and accepts the offer to work at _The Daily Planet_ , after Clark also mentions on the sly that he needs a roommate. The two walk and talk after being kicked out – open offices were a pain when it came to privacy, sometimes.

Clark even manages to begin to like Jimmy, before he convinces him to show him where he took the famous shot.

* * *

Later that night, the red-haired woman who saw Batgirl’s face without her mask after coming up to the roof while the blonde superhero talked to a cross-legged Superman would wonder what she could do with three thousand dollars – and realise that the Batfam must be loaded if Batgirl could just hand over eight thousand dollars and worry if it was _too much_.

* * *

(In another universe, Dr Pamela Islay would get funding for her experiments the old fashioned way – by not actually doing them, and instead being lab assistant to a man she gave her notes to. The result would be the man taking advantage of Pamela’s willingness for results, and the creation of Poison Ivy. In this universe, Dr Pamela Islay’s efforts were funded by Batgirl – the result? Pamela got a lot further with her research, and even got to face a board before she was shut down, blind rage causing the not-so-accidental creation of the lethal supervillain, rather than the idiocy of a misogynistic man.)

* * *

The day Bruce, Alfred and Dick send Kara off to college at the tender age of eighteen, is the day a confused ten-year old by the name Damien al Ghul shows up on their doorstep.

* * *

Being away from her family is hard – terribly so – but Kara enjoys it, too. University is so much more than she thought, and for once she is having trouble with some of her subjects. Maybe it’s simply because converting Kryptonian terms into Earth terms takes time, but she _is_ having trouble, and Kara embraces it with a smile…for a while. Then she’s getting distracted by people – humans.

She has _no freaking idea_ how to make friends.

Luckily, Alex Danvers appears in her life!

Unfortunately, it was after her first year at National City University, so she made all sorts of mistakes and became sort of ostracised, but she could deal with being the loner, and not being invited to parties. NCU is a wide and diverse place, after all, and Kara can join the food club if she wants! She does…and then she gets kicked out…because she eats all the food…

…but luckily, Alex Danvers appears in her life! And they’re dormmates, despite being Journalism-slash-Business-Studies-slash-Mechanical-Engineering-slash-Administration-slash-Art and Biochem Majors, respectively, and they’re stuck together like magnets.

Kara can’t decide what Major to pick, and Bruce is panicking _for_ her, so she doesn’t worry about it. She’s a ‘genius’ according to Earth terms, so everything’s easy anyway.

She even visits Alex’s parents, sometimes – they come in to National City, or Alex’ll go visit them and drag Kara along. Alex’s parents are both scientists, and work for the government – different branches, they’d assured her. Eliza is lovely, and bakes her pie – pie that Alex doesn’t like, and complains about as Kara eats the entire thing in _one damn sitting_ – and Jeremiah, well…if Kara had to choose any other guy to be her dad, she’d pick him.

He was a lovely man.

He once likened her relationship with Alex to that of sisters, but Kara disagrees, thinking of her brothers…then quietly considers it and decides that if she suddenly gets another sibling – because since she last checked, not only had Damien appeared out of the blue, but now there was another teen called Jason that was soon to take over the Robin title from Dick, when he finished training, and that was two brothers she hadn’t accounted for, not including Dick – that was a sister and a girl, she would see how their relationship blossomed and compare it to the one she had with Alex. If she ever got an actual sister.

But anyway, Alex was a good friend. She raised her eyebrow at Kara’s standard of living, and didn’t blink an eye at Kara’s last name, instead only asking if her fancy parentage meant she could cook, _because I can’t cook for shit._

Kara had only winced. Bruce would kill her for all the takeout she imagined she would live on for the next few years, not to mention _Alfred_.

* * *

One day, when she visits the Danvers household, she spots a pile of Science-y notes sitting on the kitchen table and without thinking, starts reading. A minute later, she was shaking as she held Alex by her throat in front of Eliza and Jeremiah, asking _why in Rao’s name do you have notes on my biology?_ And she – and Alex – discover that Eliza and Jeremiah were Earth’s experts on Kryptonian physiology.

Clark Kent grew up in a house ten minutes away.

The mention of her cousin did a lot for Kara’s grip on Alex’s neck, and they both stayed well away from the two adults until they explained themselves properly.

Kara didn’t visit them again.

Even when Eliza promised pie.

* * *

Kara goes back to Gotham in two thousand and twelve nearing twenty-two, with multiple degrees attached to her resume. Dutifully, she returns to being Batgirl, but…she liked National City. Gotham was dark and – while she hated, _hated_ thinking it about her home-city – hope was hard to find. _Her_ family brought home, her father and brothers, and Kara, too. And new villains had made their home there, since her departure. Before, there had been people like the al Ghul’s, and the Court of Owl’s, and street-gangs and mobs.

Now.

 _Now_.

Now there was Poison Ivy. Now there was the Riddler. Now there was the Penguin and Croc and the infamous _Joker_. Kara found it stressful, longing instead for the sunny National City, where she could soak up sun without ever fearing it wouldn’t be enough, where paranoia and the reflex to snap her arm at someones jugular was _normal_. She worked silently at Wayne Enterprises under her father, knowing she’d inherit it eventually, and it was her burden to bear – he couldn’t know how it affected her, how much she longed to _leave_.

But Bruce could see her discontent, and so, he got her a job out west, in California, insisting she go make something for herself. And in the evening, after the sun had gone down, and she was ready to put on her Batsuit, he told her that the things she was feeling, everything about Gotham that made her depressed and feeling hopeless, it was the reason he stayed, why he protected it in the first place and made it better.

It was the reason she needed to go.

And so she left.

* * *

California was hot, and sunny, and she tanned, because that job her dad got her? It was in a building with over a million floor-to-ceiling, glass windows – a modern newspaper, where she could put her Administration skills to the test by working as a secretary slash receptionist at the front of the building, right at the desk that most of her co-workers hated, due to the constant sun.

And she liked it.

She liked organising things, and greeting people and telling them what to do, where to go. Soon, she got a promotion, moving further up the building, and somewhere a fifth of the way up, a head-hunter called her name and asked her to work for someone else, and then it _kept happening_ , until Kara was swarmed with job offers that she had barely any time at all to grab.

Bruce called it _being successful at your job_.

Alfred called it _being too popular for your own good._

But Kara had piled up a good amount of cash by that time. Enough to get to National City without her dad’s help, and get an apartment – and oh, look-y here, there were several openings for jobs there she could take, _and_ they weren’t all just secretarial positions, either. She could make something with her other degrees, too, and people always bought Kara Wayne’s art, and not just for her name either.

So, Kara moved to National City.

And she got a job.

In the form of personal assistant to Maxwell Lord.

* * *

Lord _revelled_ in having her there. He treated her like she belonged in an art gallery, and a business meeting, and like she was beneath him – all at the same time. It was confounding, and half the time Kara didn’t know whether Lord was treating her like an assistant or a date. But she got her job done, at least, and at the same time got to see a lot of neat stuff.

And a lot of _weird_ stuff.

Like, _this could be potentially very dangerous, do you see the real-life applications of this, Max?_ He’d laugh her off, and Kara would worry. She wanted to report him sometimes, then would remember the contract she was legally inclined to abide by, unless she wanted some _real-life applications_.

“Dance with me, Miss Wayne,” he smiled charmingly at her, holding out a hand. It wasn’t a question. Kara gave a polite smile, giving her champagne to a nearby waitress, murmuring a small thanks before taking her boss’ hand, allowing herself to be drawn onto the dancefloor.

They were at Supergirl’s welcoming party.

Kara had never felt more out of place.

“What’s on your mind, Kara? Thinking on the new super-heroine in our backyard?”

Kara’s smile became tight, “Maybe, sir.” In truth, she was remembering her first party, back on Krypton. Her mother had just been promoted to Head Judge, and she was invited to a gathering, one which Kara and her father came with her to. There had been no other children there, but that was normal – Kara was one of only five children in the city, and even then, only she was high enough in the social circles to come to _that_ party.

Max smirked, “Your work hours finish after this, you know.” Kara tensed. “We could go…enjoy ourselves.”

“I believe that’s not appropriate, sir.”

Max pouted, “You’ve worked for me, what, two years now?”

“Nearly, sir, and I’d rather not be dismissed, or have cause to dismiss myself.”

Max went to continue, but a female voice sounded, “Can I steal you?” Max turned to the speaker, as did Kara, a smile widening on his face.

“Cat, of course-”

“Oh, I wasn’t asking you, Max,” ‘Cat’, it turned out, was Cat Grant, aka what Jason dubbed her ‘lady-crush’. Cat looked to her, holding out a hand. “Would you like to dance?”

Kara’s eyes widened, before she blushed, “Really?” She had the foresight to pull away from Max who looked about to protest.

“Of course.” Cat assured, and Kara decided to take her hand, letting the other blonde pull her away, calmly turning her into a dance hold, their hands clasping each other, Kara’s free one going to her waist. “You looked like you needed rescued.”

“A- a bit, yeah,” Kara said shyly, looking to her feet, praying to Rao that they wouldn’t betray her. “Sorry.”

“No need to apologise. So, who are you?” Kara’s head jerked up.

“You _don’t_ know?” That _was_ a bit off, especially for a reporter. Cat looked at her, bemused.

“Should I?”

Kara’s mouth opened slightly, going to tell her she was a Wayne, when she stopped, catching Cat’s eye. “…nobody. I’m nobody special.”

“Well, then, do I get a name?” Cat replied tartly, causing Kara to quirk an eyebrow, before giving her a name.

“Keira.”

“ _Keira_ …it suits you,” Cat hummed, and Kara felt bad about lying, but, well… “Last name?” Kara came up blank for a moment.

“Uh…” she tried to think of a last name that fit, that she wanted to use. “…Danvers. Keira Danvers.” Alex wouldn’t mind.

“Keira Danvers, a pleasure to meet you. Now why was Max harassing you?”

Kara gave a tired sigh, “He’s my boss. I’m his PA.”

Cat raised an eyebrow, “That’s certainly unprofessional of him. Not uncommon with him, but still, unprofessional. He shouldn’t be doing that. Learn to stand up for yourself. Your qualifications?” Kara swallowed, blushing.

“Uh, Administration, Business Studies – Journalism.”

“And here I thought that Max was into people with scientific backgrounds.”

“I _do_ have a scientific background,” Kara replied without thinking, affronted at the very _notion_ , eyes full of fire. “Just because I don’t care to get a degree in more familiar topics doesn’t make me unqualified.”

“Not having a degree makes you the very definition.”

“I never said I didn’t have a degree,” Kara replied angrily.

Now, Cat looked unimpressed. “It’s _exactly_ what you said.”

Kara puffed out air, frustrated, trying to find some way to make things clearer. “Oh, this is coming out all wrong. I’m- I’m an immigrant. I do have qualifications, but they don’t cross over, and everything’s so _easy_ – I wanted to do something unfamiliar.” Cat’s face became more understanding. “My apologies,” Kara muttered, mood thoroughly decimated. Cat hummed.

“No, I apologise. It must be hard to find the right words, sometimes – I certainly know the struggle. I’m a writer.”

“I know,” Kara replied, “I love your work.”

Cat preened, “I’m going grey with all the effort I put into it. You’d better.” Kara giggled.

“You’re not going grey.”

“Then I’m getting wrinkles.”

Kara let out an actual laugh at that, “Ms Grant-” she couldn’t call her by her first name, she couldn’t “-you’re beautiful, and don’t forget it.” Cat looked at her oddly. Kara cringed, going to let go. “Too much, that was too much-”

“Are you flirting with me?” Cat kept a death-grip on her hand, other slipping down to hold it on her waist, coming to a stop in the middle of the song.

“Uh…” Kara flushed. Had she been? _No, but you wanted to_ , Alex’s voice echoed through her head. “No?”

“That sounded more like a question, Keira.” Cat eyed her. “How old are you?”

“Uh…that’s debatable.”

“Debatable,” Cat said levelly.

Kara started to panic again, but managed to calm herself down. “My father had to guess my age. He got it wrong, but the papers had already been filed and I didn’t want him to go to all the trouble, so…officially, I’m twenty-five, when it’s more like thirty, or twenty-nine. It’s been a while, I forget.”

“You must have been a small child,” Cat observed. Kara laughed nervously.

“Well, I could always be Supergirl and more like fifty.” _Oh Rao, shut up shut up, shut up!_ Cat though, gave a small grin.

“How would you know Supergirl’s age?”

Kara’s eyes flicked side to side, anywhere but Cat. “Well, Superman said Krypton exploded forty something years ago, so she has to be at least as old as him, right?” She was exaggerating Krypton’s demise, though it might hurt her to. “Have you had an interview with her yet?” She questioned, shifting the spotlight back to Cat, jittery now.

Cat seemed annoyed at this, “No, I haven’t. And I want one. She saved the Tribune – her appearance brought back to light the disappearances of Batgirl, and the appearance of the new Batgirl.” _Oh, that’s Barb, right?_ She’d been recruited during her NCU years, and it had been fun to be Batgirl and Batgirl – they’d liked to trade nights. Kara hadn’t known she’d continued to be Batgirl after she left, though she probably should have assumed. “They really should give the new Batgirl a different name. Supergirl – she’s a confusing conundrum. Is she a Kryptonian? Is she a Bat? Is she both?”

“Both, I think,” Kara answered her question. “It makes sense, doesn’t it? With that symbol on her chest…” she looked around at the servers, eyeing the cheap, waitress versions of her newest costume, courtesy of Alfred, as per usual. It was based on her cousin’s costume, with a blue body and a red cape that Kal-El had given her – his baby blanket, bullet proof and pure Kryptonian fabric, just like her Batsuit. Her Batsuit was made from body armour and her old dress, cut and dyed black to fit. However, Supergirl’s suit could afford to be a bit less cumbersome, due to being able to show off her Kryptonian nature. Blue bodice, red skirt, red cape, red boots…all in all: colourful.

But then of course came the argument over her crest. It was a long argument, mostly due to the fact that Kara wanted to include the Bat symbol, and Bruce didn’t want to be associated with her _hoity-toity I-wear-tights cousin, who doesn’t seem to understand that destroying cities costs money._

For once in her life, Kara won an argument against him.

Mainly because Alfred backed her, loving the chance to integrate the Bat symbol and the crest of the House of El, but she still won the argument no matter who back her.

“It’s an interesting story, one I’d be happy to cover, if I just got a damn quote from her,” Cat grumbled, before the song finished. They glanced over at the band, before dropping their hands in tandem. “Well, Miss Danvers, I had hoped to recruit you, but I believe that would be inappropriate.”

Kara, at the reminder, flushed again, “Well…”

Cat took a pen from who-knew-where and took her hand, writing a number on it. Kara thought she must have died and gone to heaven.

“Text me, don’t call unless I say so. I’m an independent woman with a media empire, and I have very little free time, most of which I spend with my son.”

“I…I understand,” Kara whispered, before smiling shyly at her, “So, I’ll…text you?” Cat gave her a vaguely amused look.

“Yes, I suppose you shall. Now, I have to go – it’s my rule, half an hour and then I’m done. Goodbye for now, Keira.” And then she brushed past her, leaving, and Kara turned to watch, feeling like she was on cloud nine.

A feeling that dissipated as Max sidled back up to her.

“So, how was your dance with Cat?”

Kara glanced at her boss, before looking out the window – and it must have been fate, because the Wayne Enterprises logo gleamed at her in the dark. She smiled.

“That good, eh? And I see you got her number, smooth. Didn’t know you swung that way, Wayne.”

Kara turned to him, smile wide.

“Max?”

He grinned at her, leaning forwards. “Yes?”

She leant in to meet him. “I quit.”


End file.
